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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23354710">Indiscretion</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Coming In Pants, Coming Untouched, Forced Orgasm, Humiliation, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Porn With Plot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 04:33:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,021</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23354710</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Geralt uses Axii to try and get Jaskier out of a dangerous situation. It backfires rather spectacularly when he remembers that there are several different meanings to the verb "come". </p><p>Jaskier would just like to know why he's coming apart randomly at the most inopportune of times.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1344</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Indiscretion</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I would like to assure the reader that Jaskier is extremely 100% into everything that happens. He's having the time of his life. Free orgasms. Sometimes they're a bit badly timed, but he's never going to turn those down. </p><p>However, the use of any kind of spell like Axii should probably come with some warnings, which I will put at the end in the end notes.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It wasn't a good decision, but it was necessary. Jaskier wouldn't stay put. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"When I say go, you'll go in that direction for five minutes until you're safe," Geralt said, quickly waving the sign for Axii in the air. "And when I say come, you'll come." To his side, he meant. Because Jaskier never fucking listened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn't one for taking away people's ability to say no to a command. He wasn't a monster. But Jaskier never fucking listened, and Geralt had said "run, Jaskier, run," and Jaskier hadn't run, and had ended up taking a bite to the shin from a fucking varg for no reason. He was limping along now, whimpering and complaining with every step, and Geralt had finally come down from the adrenaline high of "fuck, Jaskier's being eaten" enough to clear his mind and come up with a temporary solution. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>(It was temporary. He intended to drop the sign as soon as they killed the last varg, which was around here somewhere. Again, he wasn't a monster - he just needed Jaskier out of the way for five minutes.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier's eyes went a little unfocused as the sign stuck, and he nodded. Geralt left it a minute for Jaskier to become distracted again, putting a few metres between him and the bard before testing out his new instructions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Jaskier, come," he said clearly, voice ringing out between the winter trees of the forest. He expected to hear that familiar set of footsteps he associated with the bard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier made a strangled sort of sound, and suddenly bent double. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Within seconds, Geralt was at his side, cursing his stupidity - what was he thinking, acting from frustration, thinking with his temper and not his logic, something had gone wrong, he had hurt Jaskier - except. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier made a pained little moan, more confused than hurt, and Geralt watched his legs shake. He tried to unfurl Jaskier, but he was at first batted away like an annoying fly, and then clung to, weakly, with randomly clenching hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was suddenly the thick and cloying smell of sex in the air, as if Jaskier was... as if he had...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"By the seven hells and Melitele's perky nipples," Jaskier said, his face bright red and not looking Geralt in the eye, "what the blazes was..." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn't have time for this. There was a low growl from behind a bush, and he whirled round with his sword glinting in the air coming face to face with the final varg. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Jaskier, go," he said, pointing back to where Roach had run to, and he heard the quick pace of light footsteps running as he had ordered. He cleared his mind of all thoughts, and quickly threw himself into the fight. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he tracked Jaskier down - tracked that same salty smell, sweet underneath like honey somehow - Jaskier was limping by Roach's side as they both walked the direction Geralt had sent them. Jaskier startled when Geralt appeared, a blush staining his face, but he was obviously trying to sound normal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"There you are - are they gone? Good, good, I kept thinking I could hear... but I think we should get my ankle looked at, Geralt, I'm still bleeding and I'm feeling strangely foggy, and I'm having a very weird time of it-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing to do but wait until the sign wore off. It wouldn't take long. "Get on Roach," he said, and Jaskier paled slightly, unable to stop the little disgusted curl on his lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Actually, um. Would you mind if I went and um. Found a stream or something nearby, to cool down a little? I'd like to wash the bite out and cool off a little-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We'll be near the town soon," Geralt said, because the last thing he needed was Jaskier running off alone in search of some stream that wasn't there. It wasn't his intention to humiliate the man by not allowing him a moment to clean up - he just needed Jaskier to wait until they weren't in the middle of a wolf infested forest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Right," Jaskier said, sounding resigned. He hopped into Roach with a grimace. "Lead the way." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The smell drifted between them, and Geralt pinched the bridge of his nose out of Jaskier's sight, cursing his own ambiguous wording - and Jaskier's stupid, insatiable brain that didn't interpret a word without first layering it in innuendo and mischief. Still, it was Geralt's fault. He'd make it up to the bard later by buying him a drink. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Alright Roach," he said, taking over to walk in the lead and quickly stopping himself from saying </span>
  <em>
    <span>come on</span>
  </em>
  <span>. "Get over here." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jaskier didn't talk about it, but it was clear that the whole event had thoroughly confused him. Of course he was confused - most people didn't just spill in their breeches spontaneously at a strange moment - and Geralt had no intention of telling him why, exactly, he'd chosen that particular moment to... hm. Spill himself. Luckily he didn't appear too upset either. It seemed he'd just written it off as stress and fear causing a, in his words, "strange physiological expulsion of the humours" - he'd overheard him muttering to himself about it while he darned his shirt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The command wore off. Geralt tested it the next day, saying, "Jaskier, come here, we need to go," and Jaskier just bounded over like a puppy smelling of nothing but his lute oil, the whoreish perfume he preferred, and that gentle parchment smell of his skin. Good. Geralt didn't need more distractions. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A few nights later, Jaskier appeared in their shared room looking very drunk, dishevelled and confused. Geralt hadn't expected to see him so soon. He'd been canoodling in the lap of a rather buxom lady all evening, and Geralt, tired of the noise of the tavern and thinking about how his swords needed a good polish, had left him to it, deciding to go upstairs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That was fast," he said, and Jaskier shot him a look which surprised him, half embarrassed, half bemused. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't," he said tightly, and began rummaging through his things. "Where are my spare... ah, here."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sounded uncomfortable. Geralt paused from where he had been whetting his steel blade. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I mean, it's normal, isn't it?" he suddenly burst out, waving his arms wildly in the air. "If you have a pretty woman in your lap whispering salacious things about how she'd like to blow your flute, then it's perfectly normal. I mean, usually I can last long enough to actually see her tits, but - well, it just shows how healthy I am!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt understood with dawning horror that Jaskier was telling him about his sex life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What?" he rumbled, and Jaskier jumped as if he forgot Geralt was in the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Nothing. Look away, I have to get changed." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt looked away, and didn't listen to the sound of Jaskier peeling off his soaked breeches. The smell, however, told him everything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"When a lady says come, you don't just come," Jaskier was muttering, and Geralt covered his own eyes with his hand. Fuck. But he had to check. It could have been that Jaskier just got a little... enthusiastic. He needed to check. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Stop messing around over there," he said, carefully, waiting until Jaskier was dressed again, "and come. To bed." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The effect was immediate. Jaskier stumbled where he stood, eyelids fluttering, his mouth falling open and panting, and Geralt watched in fascinated horror as the clean white front of his smallclothes darkened and wettened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hrng," said Jaskier eloquently, and then seemed to come back to himself. "Oh for - my clean breeches!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His face was once again that fetching shade of red, and his legs were shakier than before. "What the hell is going on? Twice in ten minutes! Twice! I swear, my prick is broken, I think I need to see a healer Geralt because this doesn't seem normal-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No you don't," Geralt said, tiredly. "Stand here." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pointed to the spot of floor beside him, and Jaskier stumbled over, clearly even more confused, pulling down his shirt slightly to cover the damage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How would you know? You're not the one going around randomly splooging his smallclothes at the smallest provocation-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt waved another Axii into the air. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You won't come - orgasm - every time someone says come," he said firmly, making eye contact with Jaskier, and Jaskier nodded before blearily blinking slightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The ale has gone to my head and I don't have any clean clothes," he said, collapsing slightly where he stood, and Geralt sighed. This, again, was his fault. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Borrow a pair of mine," he said, pointing vaguely to his pack, and Jaskier nodded gratefully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The smell was there again. Geralt breathed it in involuntarily, wishing he could open a window - it was stifling, and hot, and his own dick gave an interested throb in his trousers. He rolled his eyes and went back to whetting his sword. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier settled down on the bed behind him, the smell of his come stifled by Geralt's own smell, which was a heady combination - but not one he could indulge in. Geralt could feel Jaskier's eyes on the back of his head, gearing up to say something. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I expect you think," Jaskier said finally, voice laiden with regret, "that I'm terribly foolish."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I do," Geralt replied, feeling Jaskier stiffen behind him, "but not for this. It happens. It's a normal physiological response to stress." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Right," Jaskier said, sounding relieved. "Right. That's what I said. I've been under a lot of stress recently." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt nodded. It </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn't</span>
  </em>
  <span> a normal response to stress, but he'd fixed the problem, and he really saw no need to overcomplicate things by telling Jaskier the truth. Hopefully the whole topic would never come up again - but he needed to do one last check. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Then sleep well. We'll never know what we'll come," he looked at Jaskier, emphasising the word, "across tomorrow." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier thankfully didn't do anything strange. He just raised an eyebrow at Geralt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Are you making a joke out of my plight?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes," Geralt said, and started putting his sword away to sleep. He heard Jaskier snicker to himself as he settled under the covers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Bastard," Jaskier said fondly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt just let out a quiet breath of relief. Hopefully he had saved the bard's dignity - or, as much of it as was still left. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Things seemed normal. They travelled. There were no more incidents - Jaskier didn't crumple over randomly, and Geralt assumed the problem had gone away for good. They parted ways, and Geralt busied himself in his hunts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He realised that he had been too optimistic after a few weeks when he ran into Jaskier again. The troubadour looked exhausted. He was dancing and singing in the tavern as usual when Geralt walked in, but there were bags under his eyes and his countenance was pale. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, he greeted Geralt as enthusiastically as ever, and they spent a very pleasant few days travelling along the road together, catching fish, camping out, talking about old times together. Geralt kicked up a fuss sometimes, but really, the bard was good company compared to the lonely road. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or... he usually was. But now he was snappish and frustrated. He kept lashing out randomly and getting into fights with the locals. And, worst of all, whenever Geralt touched him, he flinched. Geralt's concern grew. Was someone hurting Jaskier? Had some traumatic event shaken him to his core? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn't know how to breach the subject and, besides, wasn't sure he could help even if he did. His speciality was hacking and slashing, not patching up someone's broken heart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The opportunity presented itself by the campfire after a long day of walking. Jaskier was always grumpy after a long day, but this night was worse. He was constantly muttering to himself, kicking at stones and twigs, and generally making a nuisance of himself. Geralt was halfway through deboning a nice bit of perch when Jaskier suddenly violently swore and threw a saddlebag on the ground. There was the incriminating smash of glass from inside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Stupid fucking buttons! Stupid shitting bag - fuck, this is all I need!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt quickly ran over to the bag and peered inside. He swore. A thin coating of Cat was seeping into his things. Jaskier let out a thin hoarse scream when he saw Geralt pop the buttons open like it was nothing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Jaskier!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, I'm sorry! I'm </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>sorry! But maybe you shouldn't make your saddlebags so devilishly hard to fucking get into!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So you threw it?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What else am I meant to do? It's useless! A useless piece of shit bag with nothing good in it! Everything's useless and you're useless for dragging me out here, and I'm useless, and this whole bloody forest is shitty and useless-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was kicking more things as he talked, winding himself up into an angry fervour. As if in slow motion, Geralt watched as one of Jaskier's feet got closer and closer to the fish Geralt had been gutting, until, with a splat, the two connected. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fish exploded. Bits of flesh flew everywhere. The head flew across the fire and into the dark night. An eyeball landed in Geralt's hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a moment of silence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt grabbed Jaskier and flung him over his shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Now - now wait, Geralt, hold on - where are you taking me-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt ignored him, and Jaskier began to panic, hitting at Geralt's shoulders and back with his hands, feet flailing dangerously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Come on, let's talk about this like men, I'm very sorry for kicking your fish - Geralt, you great oaf, put me down!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt did put him down. Geralt put him down in the river where he caught the fish, chucking Jaskier into the water unceremoniously. Jaskier spluttered and gasped, but the river was only waist deep, slow and lazy, so there was no real damage - apart from to Jaskier's fine clothes. And his ego. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Bastard!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You," Geralt growled, pointing at him, "are getting on my nerves. Either snap out of it, or get lost." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm trying!" Jaskier wailed, somewhat desperately, looking like a drowned cat in the middle of the river. "I've tried everything to snap out of it! I can't!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Can't what?" Geralt said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Can't come!" Jaskier replied, looking close to tears with frustration and mortification. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The silence rang out a little longer. Geralt, suddenly very weary and tired, closed his eyes. This was, undoubtedly and without equivocation, still his fucking fault, wasn't it. Axii wasn't supposed to be this... permanent. Perhaps he'd done it wrong. Perhaps Jaskier was too suggestible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I've done everything I can to fix it," Jaskier continued, breath coming in pants, "tried every position, every partner, even tried a few strange and adventurous things that don't bear repeating out loud, and nothing. Nothing! I get hard, I get close, gods do I get close, but I can't - I never - it's torture!" He kicked the water with his foot, hands twisting in his soggy jacket. "It's like I'm... waiting for permission, but when I get it... it's..." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt waded into the river and guided Jaskier back to the camp. They both stripped off and hung their clothes near the fire to dry, leaving both of them in their soggy smallclothes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt didn't look, but he could see the outline of Jaskier's dick through his wet clothes, half hard, looking somehow dejected despite all logic saying that shouldn't be possible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sorry," Jaskier finally said, looking so tired that Geralt was worried he'd pass out. "It's ridiculous, I know." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's not." Geralt sat him on a bed roll by the fire to warm up, and sat next to him. "You get close?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Very." Jaskier looked like he couldn't decide if he did or didn't want to talk about it, face and chest blushing red. "I still enjoy myself, that's for sure. And my partners enjoy the extra stamina for a while. But then... well, they're all finished, several times finished sometimes, and I'm still there, hard as a rock, unsatisfied, and it's an insult to them! I have to tell them to give up and it's not their fault, but really... they don't believe me. I've given up for now. Sex is torture for me until I can get this fixed. I've been to see healers, but they can't work out what the hell is wrong with it." His eyes slid closed. "And I'm so horny, Geralt, all the time, gods I've never been half hard for so long before, just the slightest touch-" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt couldn't hear anymore. It was too much. The wet river smell had masked it, but now it rose off Jaskier's skin like mist in a forest, the smell of desperate reckless lust, of frustration and anger, the sharp adrenal smell like sweat but sour, and underneath that, yet more lust. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt wasn't unaffected. He ignored it. Instead, he cast Axii. He thought very, very carefully this time, thinking about his limited knowledge of bedroom talk, trying to decide on a solution that would allow Jaskier some control back and wouldn't be too difficult for any future partners to stumble across. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"When someone says </span>
  <em>
    <span>come for me</span>
  </em>
  <span>," he said, "come." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier watched him, red high on his cheeks and down his neck, and Geralt rather wanted to lean forward and eat him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"... Geralt?" Jaskier said in a small voice, and the lust smell rose higher and sharper, warm and inviting. Geralt breathed in sharply, and then held his breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Try now," he said, and Jaskier's eyes widened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What? Right here? In front of you?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That hadn't been what Geralt had meant. He was about to explain, no, I'll go take a walk, you stay here, but then Jaskier's hand darted across and touched Geralt's wrist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes," Geralt said, changing his mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You musty old pervert," Jaskier breathed, but Geralt could see him twitching in his smallclothes. Interesting. He'd always suspected the bard had a secret penchant for being watched. "I won't. What makes you think this time will be any better?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt hummed, before reaching into the previously discarded saddlebag. He pulled out a herb and brushed off the spilled potion, before making a big show of burning it in his hand with Axii. He motioned for Jaskier to come forward, and Jaskier did, so obedient and willing in a way he never was when he was actually in fucking danger, damn it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blew the ash into Jaskier's face, and muttered some nonsense words under his breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier coughed. "What the hell was that?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Old pagan blessing for vitality and fertility," Geralt lied. "You should find it easier next time you're with someone." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh," Jaskier said, and flushed pink for a moment before grinning widely. "How many weird dick blessings do they teach you in that old castle then? Hm? Got one to make it bigger too? Seems a bit suspect for a bunch of big burly men all alone in the mountains together-" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt grabbed his wet trousers and hit Jaskier in the face with them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That night, he was nearly asleep when he heard Jaskier roll over in his bed roll, heart rate suspiciously fast. He assumed it was a nightmare perhaps, or just that usual human fear that came from not being able to hear anything around them. There was a shuffle of fabric. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cracked one eye open. Jaskier was facing away from him, towards the fire. They were sleeping side by side - Jaskier wasn't that far away, just an arm's length - so Geralt could hear every movement minutely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier's hands were above the covers, one under his head, the other grasping the blanket. But under the covers... </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was the muted, minute sound of fabric rustling. Gods. Was Jaskier just rutting against the bed roll like a desperate teenager? Why? Was he that horny that he couldn't control himself? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, Geralt reasoned as Jaskier's movements grew slowly more confident, any man would be desperate if he hadn't come for... how long had it been? Too long. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Fuck," Jaskier said under his breath, as if to agree with him. "Come on. Please." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt stared at the night sky. It was harder to see the stars with the fire giving off the warm, red glow that it did. It meant that he couldn't see their reproachful glares at him for what he'd done. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a few minutes of listening to Jaskier fruitlessly grind against fabric, Geralt silently rolled onto his side so that his chest was parallel with Jaskier's back. He took a deep breath. There was really only one way to see if he had fixed the problem. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Come for me," he said, voice growling from tiredness but still clear across the fire. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier froze. And then, suddenly, he was convulsing, letting out such a low and animalistic noise that Geralt couldn't help but stumble over with a speed that surprised himself, pulling Jaskier out of his bedroll and pulling his face to the light to see- </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier's expression was pure ecstasy, eyes scrunched up tight, eyebrows simultaneously trying to furrow and lift and caught somewhere in between in glorious hazy delirium, his mouth open in a cry that vibrated somewhere at Geralt's tailbone. He was grasping at nothing, hands shaking. Stupidly, on instinct, Geralt put one arm around Jaskier's head to stop it hitting the ground as his spine bent, and the other hand he pressed firmly over Jaskier's crotch, pressing into the fabric, just to check, just to see if he was finally, finally coming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was. Through the thin fabric, Geralt could feel Jaskier's dick hard as a rock, twitching and jerking under the sudden warmth of Geralt's hand. There was a flood of more warmth, and Geralt took a deep, unwilling breath of that familiar hot, salt sweet smell as Jaskier came and came and came. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh fuck," Jaskier said weakly, eyes opening just enough to roll back into his head, before he fell limp. Geralt froze, frantically listening for a heartbeat. Were humans that fragile? Could not coming for too long have fatal consequences? A heart attack? Or-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier let out a long snore. Geralt relaxed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Under his hand, he could feel Jaskier's come soaking through the fabric. Slippery. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was relieved. Jaskier could go back to normal. He'd covered every base. He was never, ever trying to use Axii on Jaskier ever again - it was clear that something would go wrong. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guilt flooded through him. He carefully pulled his hand away, and didn't let himself stop and savour the sight of it, the smell, the sweat on Jaskier's forehead, the blood finally draining out of his cheeks. Businesslike, he laid Jaskier back down on the bedroll. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt didn't go back to sleep that night. Instead, he carefully cleaned Jaskier up with a damp rag warmed from the fire. Jaskier had soiled his only spare pair of smallclothes, so Geralt took his own off - ignoring his waning dick - and put them on Jaskier instead. Then the next few hours were spent washing and drying over the fire, and then catching fish for breakfast. Geralt stayed out long enough to catch three fish - Jaskier deserved to eat properly, eat as much as he wanted, and to wake up in warm comfort, not in soggy cold clothes. He deserved to finally feel relaxed and safe. It was all Geralt's fault that he'd been wound up into this state in the first place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the least Geralt could do to feed and clothe the poor bard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Besides, he didn't trust himself to go back. To go and lie next to Jaskier, who smelled delicious, enticing, sated and heady - he'd end up hard again, and then he'd be the one suffering. So. No. Geralt stayed far away that night, catching fish and washing his hands until they smelled of nothing at all. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And that was that. That was the end of the problems. Jaskier went back to his good old bubbly self, and Geralt heaved a great sigh of relief. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The morning had been fine. At first, Jaskier had been extremely awkward, talking nervously about a very strange dream - but admitting that he felt rejuvenated like never before, wondering if the blessing was working already. Geralt listened and nodded, and Jaskier seemed to relax. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I wonder," he said, and then trailed off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After they packed up, Geralt saddled Roach, and then, hesitantly, said: </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Jaskier, come." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And, with only a little grumbling and complaining, Jaskier ran over with his lute over his shoulder and a lax smile on his face. Yes. This was much better. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They met again at the debutante ball of a noble girl. Jaskier was there because he was playing court bard for a bit, and he was happy to weave and dance between the crowd and sing (heavily censored) songs about pretty maidens going out and seeing the world and having all kinds of adventures. He looked wonderfully happy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt was there because there was a wraith of some kind haunting the noble girl's favourite walled garden. He did not look quite as happy to be there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Regardless, they were both pleased to coincide together. Jaskier took a moment from his performance to come and tease Geralt over turning up to a debutante ball of all things in his armour, like a beastly fool, while Geralt asked Jaskier if anyone had tried to geld him for cuckolding them yet. So, yes, it was not the worst job to take - not when Jaskier was dressed to the nines in his finest outfit, a doublet with so many slashes that it was barely holding itself together over a salaciously velvet purple shirt, and his shapely legs encased in hose, fit from so many years of following Geralt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt killed the wraith in the garden while Jaskier was inside entertaining the party. He could hear the bard's music playing softly in the distance as he trapped the poor soul in a sign and slashed it with silver, releasing it into the ether. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, he took a seat on a stone bench under a gloriously flourishing rose bush, to catch his breath. The music still played faintly, and he listened. It was... nice. Nice music. Jaskier could play well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier could do many things well. Talk nonstop, distract and be distracted, fight dirty, cook rabbit, amongst other things. The rumours said he even fucked well, though Geralt couldn't attest to that. He didn't doubt it. Jaskier wasn't a cad. He was a people pleaser at heart, and if sex wasn't the very definition of pleasing people, then Geralt wasn't a monster killer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The music changed, and Geralt tilted his head to listen. He assumed it meant that Jaskier had stepped back and let the other minstrels take over, because the songs were generic and... fine. Not nice or pretty as when Jaskier played. Just fine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was only a few minutes later when Jaskier appeared. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ah, there you are!" he called out. He looked drunk - either in alcohol, or on the vibrant praise of the crowd. Maybe on the blazing overhead sun and the smell of roses. "My lovely companion of the silven hair. Or, as I say when I'm not singing your praises, you big git. Did you kill it?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yep," Geralt replied, closing his eyes and leaning back. "It won't return." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Good. Now the noble maiden can return to her little rose garden and sit in peace." Jaskier sat by Geralt, their knees touching. "You missed all my best songs."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I hear them all on the road anyway," Geralt replied, and Jaskier huffed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You never appreciate them."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Why aren't you in there, partying?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I got bored," Jaskier replied nonchalantly, "thinking about you out here doing exciting things with your swords. So I ended my set early and wandered out." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm flattered." Geralt chuckled to himself. He felt half drunk too - Jaskier's presence was comforting. He smelled nice with the roses, that perfume, stronger than usual for the party, and the smell of his catgut strings on his fingers. "You really turned your back on all that free wine because you wanted to find me?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Can't blame a bard for going where the real action is."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Then I'd better hope that no other nosy musicians decide to come for me." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He realised his mistake just a moment too late. A moment was all it took. Jaskier stifled a gasp, his knee flying out to hit Geralt's as his thighs parted, and he fell sideways. Geralt froze as Jaskier's head hit his shoulder, his mouth opening in a quiet whine, his hand landing on Geralt's knee and squeezing hard enough to bruise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Gods," Jaskier was muttering, "gods, gods," and while Geralt usually had little patience for religion, he couldn't help but agree. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was silence, aside from the faint music and Jaskier's panting. From the roses and the perfume, the other smell curled up, and Geralt was suddenly burning in the midday sun's heat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm sorry," Jaskier said, voice forcefully glib. "I quite ruined that tender moment with my - with my indiscretion - yes, it's - um. Looks like that little problem is as prominent as ever - gods, I'm sorry, Geralt-" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Jaskier, there's absolutely nothing you should be sorry for," Geralt said quietly, and explained just how the situation had come to be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier listened quietly. By the time Geralt had finished, the musicians had cycled through three dances inside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I understand," Geralt said calmly, "if you wish to part ways with me. While it was unintentional, it's still been a violation of your privacy, of your dignity, and my attempts to fix it were as thoughtless and harmful as the desire from which I first acted-" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, I don't care about all that," Jaskier said, voice still glib. He was watching Geralt with half lidded eyes, a strange expression dancing over them. "Sorry, what was the word that you first chose that made me...?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He made a vague gesture with his hand that looked like a balloon bursting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Come," Geralt said, a little worried that the bard seemed to be taking this so lightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And... sorry, the newest phrase? What was that?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Come for m-" Geralt began saying, before cutting himself off with a sharp frown. "Sorry." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So you're saying," Jaskier said, voice dipping low with what Geralt interpreted as pure threat, "that you've managed to install a little switch in me that makes me lose my mind with pleasure at a mere set of words no matter where or what or who I'm at, and you can say it repeatedly, and you're refusing to say it one more time?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt opened his mouth, and then closed it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Axii should have worn off quicker."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"But it didn't. Care to explain why?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt frowned. "Some people's minds are more... suggestible than others. Especially when the suggestion is something they aren't fighting against." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And I know you can manually drop the Axii yourself if you try hard enough - but you still made it so I'd need </span>
  <em>
    <span>permission</span>
  </em>
  <span> to come, in the end. So," Jaskier purred, "it looks like neither of us are being completely honest with each other. In fact, I'd be bold enough to say that both of us rather enjoy this little game a lot more than either of us would like to admit."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt's head swung like a pendulum to stare at Jaskier. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"But I didn't ask. I didn't set up any rules or boundaries. I acted on instinct and didn't think anything through. I betrayed your right to choose-" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And you have no idea how insanely turned on the idea of giving you that kind of control is making me," Jaskier said, under his breath, and all the garden stilled into his mouth, his nose, breathing sharply, still not recovered from his last climax, his breath panting short and sharp with the scent of roses, honey, pure want. "Let's set up your little rules and boundaries and appease your conscience somewhat, and then..." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Then what?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Then I'd rather like you to talk." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Geralt hid Jaskier's body with his own, holding him up against the alcove so that nobody could see him hidden behind the rhododendron bush. His hands made quick work of the front of Jaskier's pantaloons, ridiculous slashed things that they were, so colourful and puffy. Underneath was his hose, tied onto his white underbreeches. Geralt pressed a hand over Jaskier's crotch, fingertips at the blooming wet patch down Jaskier's thigh, pressing the fabric tight around the outline of his dick. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier sighed with pleasure and anticipation, hand coming to rest on Geralt's wrist once more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Looking at the evidence, hm? Such a pain. Making a mess of myself out in public where I can't clean it up. It's lucky my pantaloons are so loose and big."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt huffed, and slowly rubbed Jaskier through the fabric, feeling him twitch and harden more with each second. Jaskier's voice became airy and distracted, but he still didn't shut up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do you like that? That I'm walking around with the evidence of my own shame in my pants? That I can't do anything about it?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt growled slightly, and Jaskier laughed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well, by all rates, I like it. I like it a lot. Obviously it's disgusting and I think I'd rather like a bath soon, but you know, I know you know, and then I know that you know that I know that- oh, that doesn't make any sense, but forgive a man for incoherency when he's being pawed at by a handsome witcher-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Jaskier," Geralt said as warning, hand coming to close, warm and heavy, around the head of his prick through the fabric. Jaskier thrust his hips minutely, grinding into the wet mess of cum, warmth, and friction. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No talking? But you like it when I talk. I wonder, would you like making me cum when I'm mid sentence? In front of someone? Watching me trip over my own tongue and lose all my famous eloquence without being able to say why?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt would like that. Geralt would like that rather a lot. Instead of saying so, he leant forward to lick a stripe down Jaskier's jaw, hot soft tongue contrasting with the sharp stubble of their beards. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How many times could you say it?" Jaskier sounded strained, thrusts coming quicker, "before I begged you to stop? How many before I passed out from pleasure? Gods, imagine, we should find out - see how many-" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Not without permission," Geralt snapped, and Jaskier laughed again, peppered with breathy gasps. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Here's my permission. Say it. And say it again, I dare you. Say it." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Come for me," Geralt said, and Jaskier's whole body unfurled. His hand flew up to grab the hair at the Geralt's nape with sharp strength, his thighs parted, his hips thrusted up into Geralt's hand, and he came, hard and fast. Geralt breathed in the scent, the sound. Through the fabric, cum seeped through, dribbling down slowly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier's breath was so fast he may have been hyperventilating. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So strange," he said when his mouth was working again, "not being at that precipice and then suddenly tumbling off it. Have you ever - Geralt, have you ever tried to take a step which isn't there, and felt that weird swooping-" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No," Geralt said, and leaned forward to rest his head on Jaskier's chest, looking down at the mess. His own cock throbbed, pressed against Jaskier's thigh, and he thrust minutely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't believe you," Jaskier laughed. It was a nice sound, it was such a nice sound, like music. Geralt wanted to hear it ragged with pleasure again. "Go on. Say it. I'm morbidly curious. Say it for the third time." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt thrust harder, eyes closing as he tasted the air. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Are you sure?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's an </span>
  <em>
    <span>orgasm</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Geralt, not a tooth being pulled-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Come for me," Geralt said, and this time it took a second before Jaskier crunched up, mouth flying open, spittle forming at his lips like he was going to start drooling. There, against Geralt's hand, a valiant twitch, his cock moving sluggishly, the tiniest drop of cum pushing through the fabric. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Fuck!" Jaskier cried, hoarsely. "Oh, gods, fuck, oh-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt quickly moved his hand to cover Jaskier's mouth. Jaskier moaned into it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His thighs were shaking hard enough to rattle the bumblebees out of the flowers around them, sending them flying with indignant buzzing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His face, when it finally finished convulsing and morphing through something like pain, settled on a dreamy smile up into the middle distance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Now that one," he said pleasantly, "was a struggle. I dread to think what the next one will be like." He didn't sound like he dreaded it at all. Geralt, who was steadily thrusting at Jaskier's soft hose-covered thigh without any shame, huffed out a laugh, and Jaskier looked entranced. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, you really like this," he observed. "This isn't fair at all. I should get to control when you come too." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You already do," Geralt said, which made no sense, but it didn't matter. Jaskier shuffled until Geralt was thrusting up into the meat of his ass: he could hardly feel it through his leather trousers, but it didn't matter, the image was enough to kill him, of Jaskier's body bouncing up as Geralt pounded into him, his crotch smearing spend all over Geralt's front. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Come on then," Jaskier whispered. "One more time. You can do it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That's what I should be saying, Geralt thought stupidly, before whispering "come for me". The noise Jaskier made as he was suddenly launched into orgasm from his exhausted state was loud enough that Geralt was sure they could hear it from the ballroom, and this time, when Jaskier came, Geralt did too. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The farmer was gently raking compost into his fallow plot of soil when the witcher came riding by. His horse was well kept and clearly well travelled: his armour shone with care: and slumped over his back was a bard in bright blue, head turned into the witcher's shoulder away from sight, body pressed into the witcher's in a way which suggested that he didn't have the strength to hold himself up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Good sir," the witcher called out, bringing his horse to a stop by the farmer, "do you know what time it is?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bard let out a pained groan as he registered that the witcher was talking. The farmer stared in alarm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You... you're a witcher, aren't you?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the word witcher, the bard let out a pained noise and shook slightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Good gods, is he alright?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He has a fever," the witcher replied smoothly. "Taking him to a healer. The time?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Couldn't rightly say," the farmer replied, eyeing the bard with concern but taking the explanation for granted. He did look very flushed, his eyes closed and his mouth hanging open, hands gripping tight to the witcher's belt to hang on. Poor fellow. Hopefully the healer would help him, though he looked beyond rescue now. "Must be around midday, looking at the shadows." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another sharp moan. The witcher ignored it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hm. No clock?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"None, sir, we don't need it," the farmer replied, leaning on his rake. "It's a slow life out here. We go by the sun." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Wake up with the </span>
  <em>
    <span>cock's</span>
  </em>
  <span> crow, do you?" the witcher said, a strange sort of smile dancing around his eyes, and the bard uttered something that sounded halfway between a grunt and an insult about the witcher's pedigree. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ay," the farmer said uncertainly. "Say, you're not here on a job are you? Nothing dangerous around here?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Just passing through," the witcher replied. "Good luck with your work, and good day to you." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Good day," the farmer replied, keeping his concerned eyes on the couple of men as they rode away. That bard needed water and shade. The sun probably wasn't helping his obviously deathly condition. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As soon as they were out of sight, Jaskier was hissing in Geralt's ear, somehow equal parts amused and annoyed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Were the first two fucking peasants not enough for you, hm, bastard?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt just grinned to himself and hummed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You think you're so clever. My dick is going to fall off. It's going to fall off. I'm barely coherent. Gods, Geralt, I may actually faint off this horse."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Geralt paused, concern growing suddenly. If Jaskier was being serious - if he wanted Geralt to stop, wanted to use the word they'd agreed upon, then he would, immediately, with a wave of his hand, and undo every single magic word he'd put into Jaskier's head. He'd rush them to a tavern and bundle Jaskier up in blankets and make sure he wasn't actually about to suffer a tragic incident in his groin region. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Jaskier just made a noise which sounded like a smile out loud, and pressed his hips firmly against Geralt's ass until he could feel the soft length pressing against him. Could feel the warmth of Jaskier's release, rapidly cooling. After coming that many times in a row, there was no way he'd be able to get hard or spill any more cum - all orgasms must have been dry now, or the feeblest spurts of nothing from an abused prick. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was into it, the bastard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Man is not meant to come this many times in a row. Woman, maybe, but me? I may die." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Then I'll make sure there are beautiful flowers at your funeral, Jaskier," Geralt said quietly, and on the last word, there it was: Jaskier's breath caught, turning into a moan so pained that it was tortured, his hips sliding forward once, twice, in a traitorous stutter. His hands squeezed Geralt's sides hard enough the leather creaked. He sounded like someone had just punched him in the stomach. Gods, Geralt was hard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jaskier laughed, disbelieving as he came down from his high, and slung even more of his weight over Geralt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Bastard," he said fondly, out of breath, and Geralt smiled to himself as they rode down the quiet country lane. "No more talking to peasants. You know exactly what time it is now."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hm. I don't know, I'm not sure. Perhaps I should ask another-" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He deserved the gentle smack to the back of his head. </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The spell makes Jaskier orgasm every time someone says a certain set of words.<br/>Geralt discusses how this is a clear consent breach on his behalf, but Jaskier waves it away, making it clear it has had absolutely no negative effect on him.<br/>The fic ends with them establishing healthy boundaries and a safe word.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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